The Chosen Of Zagroatia
by Jed Rhodes
Summary: The Eighth Doctor and his new friend Carrie Wright are called to help UNIT with an invasion by a race of religious fanatics...
1. The Chosen of Zagroatia Chapter 1

**This story takes place after "The Virus".**

**--**

The fleet had been prepared for countless millennia. They were a holy army, dedicated to one purpose alone, and that purpose was to spread the word of the Goddess Kallantracovan, whose holy word had powered the machine of war for all time, so that when the destroyers of all conquered history and destiny, the chosen would be powerful enough to halt them.

Spread the word – by the sword, and the blaster, and the iron fist of the chosen Anointed of Zagroatia. they were Gods' appointed. And now, they would destroy everything in their path. The Speakers Of The Word had scoured the known galaxy for a challenge that would truly test the might of Zagroatia's fleet, and finally, after much searching, they had. A world that had stood against countless invasions, a world defended by a mighty, mighty champion… and populated by warriors.

And so the fleet set out…

--

They picked them up before they saw them. Defense satellites built for pitiful terrestrial wars that had no consequence or use now detected the odd mass approaching Earth. Telescopes were aimed in that direction under strict orders not to reveal what it was that they were seeing, and tracked the mass until they knew for certain exactly what it was that they were tracking.

A battlefleet.

Ten thousand ships, massive, heavily armed, heading across the stars.

For Earth.

--

Colonel Strand stood stock still, waiting for what he knew just had to be coming. Behind him were two senior adjutants from his staff. Private Thomas Davison, a twenty seven year old driver, blonde, clever polite. Corporal Daniel McKenzie, was slightly older, harder and better built, a veteran of several battles. Colonel Strand trusted them both, his key staff. He didn't like having a Captain, because Captains always questioned orders. So he stuck to the lower ranks for his staff.

But right now, he needed a different man to give him advice. A man who he knew was more important to UNIT – the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce – than anyone else. More important than anyone alive, because he was the only person who could save the world. And even then it might be touch and go.

In the corner of his office, a small telegraph device was bleeping away to itself. Strand sighed.

"Davison, get me control," he said, "and McKenzie – get me Geneva. We need more men at defensive position twenty."

He needed to get his men ready. Even if the Time Lord didn't come… well. Earth wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Sir," McKenzie said, daring his luck, "will the Doctor come?"

"I hope so," Strand sighed. "I really hope so. If he doesn't, we're dead."

--

**Ring, ring. Ring, ring.**

There was a phone ringing in the TARDIS, somewhere. Carrie raised her eyebrow and smiled as the Doctor snapped his head up in confusion.

"What?" he murmured.

"Presumably not a sales pitch person," Carrie smiled.

"Presumably not," the Doctor concurred. "Although… you never know with the TARDIS. She might well have decided that it's a good idea."

"What would someone sell to you?" Carrie asked, as the Doctor walked around the console, looking for the phone.

"Life insurance, maybe," the Doctor replied with a shrug. "To be honest, I never really thought about it."

"Why would you?" Carrie asked. "Have you ever lived in a house?"

"A mansion once," he postulated. "Never a house."

"A mansion?" Carrie asked. "You? You have the money for a mansion…?"

"I never," he snapped, suddenly turning on her, finger raised in warning, "said a thing about _money_." He spoke of it as if it disgusted him. "I merely spoke of a mansion." He lowered the finger, and turned around and kept walking. "As it happens, I got given it in the seventies – or was it the eighties? Can never remember…"

Suddenly he stopped, and Carrie stopped behind him.

There was a door. A big door. A big, big door.

"Well," the Doctor said, a smile on his face. "We have a door, and the ringing is behind it. Dare I say…?"

"What's behind door number one?" Carrie asked.

"No," the Doctor said, frowning at her. "Allonsy."

"What does that mean?" Carrie asked.

"'Let's go' in French," the Doctor said. "A rather charming young woman once said that to me, but I had to decline…"

He opened the door, and stepped inside, but, to Carrie's surprise, he shut it in her face. She stopped, blinked, and then before she could complain, he opened it again.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "But it is rather gob-smacking in here."

"What's in here?" Carrie asked.

"Well," the Doctor smiled. "Rather a lot of things, as it happens. Come on…"

He opened the door wide, and Carrie could practically feel her eyes widening out.

"Oh my God," she postulated.

It was a great dome like room, with wall the exact texture of coral, covered in rows upon rows of – well, roundels was the only word she could think of. In each corner were pillars that looked like they had grown from the walls and floors, and in the centre of this great room was a console, green and mushroom-esque, that looked, similarly, as if it had grown from the floor. The Doctor was running his hands over it. The actual thing was covered in glass panels with strange symbols running across, like some futuristic sci fi console…

"I knew I'd hate Coral," the Doctor said. "This is horrid. Absolutely horrid."

"I like it," Carrie smiled.

"Oh, the walls and the pillars and the rest is all fine," the Doctor snapped, "but what this needs is…"

"Is what?" Carrie asked.

"Tactile controls," the Doctor postulated. "Switches, levers, knobs, etcetera, etcetera…"

**Ring ring.**

The Doctor pressed a specific point on the touch screen console, and a holographic display – which the Doctor sniffed at, haughtily – popped up. It was, in fact, quite technologically advanced, but he hated it already, Carrie could just tell. He'd always preferred retro stuff.

"Space time telegraph," the Doctor said, looking at the picture with some interest, which confused Carrie, since all it showed was a bunch of squiggly lines. "UNIT needs me."

"UNIT?" Carrie asked.

"United Nations Intelligence Taskforce," the Doctor replied. "Sort of paramilitary group, set up to fight aliens when I'm not there."

Carrie nodded, dawning comprehension coming over her.

"I guess," the Doctor concluded, "that we have to go back to Earth."

"Must we?" Carrie asked.

"Yes," the Doctor said. "We must."

--


	2. Chapter 2

II

--

Strand was almost palpably relieved. The big blue box was materialising in the corner of his command office, and the noise made him smile – they always left out the noise. Always.

When the door opened and the man popped his head out, he smiled uncertainly at the Colonel, and stepped out, dressed, as expected, in a Victorian era outfit.

"Hello," he said. "Sorry, I was half expecting the Brigadier."

"No doubt," Strand smiled. "My name is Colonel Joseph Strand. United Nations Intel Taskforce – but that part's obvious," he added, indicating the winged logo on his sleeve. "Now, Doctor…"

Just then, a young girl of about twenty stepped out of the TARDIS, short blonde hair, attractive features.

"New companion?" Strand put in.

"Carrie Wright," the girl said, holding out her hand. "You're the military guy he said we were coming to see then?"

"Yep," Strand smiled. "Now then, Doctor…"

He turned to looked for the Doctor, but the Time Lord had already vanished out of the room.

"Yeah, he does that sometimes," Carrie said apologetically. "Sorry."

"Hm," Strand said, following the Doctor out. The Time Lord was poking about looking at different things, pressing buttons, looking at screens.

"Can I assume that you want me to help you deal with the massive battlefleet coming your way?" he asked.

"You saw that?" Strand asked, coming up behind him.

"Oh yes," the Doctor smiled. "What's more, I think I might know who they are."

"Who?" Carrie asked.

"Well, the formation is very typical of a Zagrite Crusader fleet," the Doctor said, looking around, suddenly very serious.

"Never heard of them," came the voice of Daniel McKenzie, staff Corporal. "They new?"

"To humanity, yes, Corporal…"

"McKenzie, Daniel," McKenzie said instantly, reacting with full military precision. "UNIT, serial number…"

"McKenzie," Strand said.

"Sir," McKenzie replied, shutting up.

"As I was saying," the Doctor continued. "They are new to humanity, but they're very old… they crusade around the universes, scouring planets with fire and then taking any who survive and indoctrinating them. An army of a million different species – mainly Zagrite, but there's Sontarans, Voord, Trakenites, Judoon, Plasmavores, Vespiforms, Raxacoricofallapatorians… all sorts of different species have place in the Crusade."

"The crusade to do what?" Strand asked.

The Doctor shrugged.

"Galactic religion was never my strong point," he said, apologetically. "I only know what I know because I met them in the far future, fighting wars with everyone they dared to."

"Maybe they're waiting for Ragnarok," Corporal McKenzie muttered, so that only Carrie could hear him.

"Ragnarok?" she asked him in a murmur.

"The end of the Norse world," the Doctor put in, having heard her. "Why do you mention it?"

Carrie jerked a thumb at Daniel.

"He mentioned it," she said.

"Maybe they're assembling an army for their religions apocalypse?" Daniel put in. The Doctor raised his eyebrows and then looked to the fleet on his screen.

"Now why would that not surprise me," he said. "End of the universe cults are surprisingly common. Never seen a whole species that ended up being one, but it isn't impossible. Good thinking, McAllister."

"McKenzie," Daniel said in a small voice.

"Don't worry," Carrie said to him as the Doctor started technobabbling. "He's always a bit rude. Nothing personal."

"He's a hero to UNIT," Daniel smiled. "Meeting him, even getting acknowledged by him, it's a dream."

"Yeah?" Carrie said with a grin. "What about going with him?"

Daniel McKenzie took on a serious look.

"That, ma'am, would be going AWOL, something I have sworn not to do under any circumstances," he said, sharply.

"Yeah," she said playfully, "but… suppose you did travel with him. What would you do?"

"Provided I did, I would make it my number one concern at all times to ensure his welfare and the welfare of other travellers on the TARDIS," Daniel said, clipped efficiency. Then a smile broke out on his face. "And I might go meet the Duke of Wellington."

"Good chap, Wellington," the Doctor suddenly cut in, walking past them. "And I'm afraid she gets awfully crowded, Corporal, so… no chance."

McKenzie visibly deflated, and Carrie shrugged with an apologetic look on his face.

"Look on the bright side, Corporal," Strand said from behind him, patting his staff officer on the back. "It could be worse. As stands, you still see more alien stuff than many people will ever know exists."

He nodded glumly, as they walked up to the big screen at HQ.

"I'll try to contact them," the Doctor smiled. "Shouldn't take long."

Suddenly, a symbol popped onto the screen – a great arrowhead, purple tipped, on a diagonal slant, through what appeared to be a planet.

"Ah," the Doctor said. "Definitely Zagrites then."

Then, the image shifted to a dark room, cold metal and covered along every wall with weaponry and heads.

And in the centre were three tall, robed figures, adorned in ornate shoulder armour with crested helmets.

"Hello!" the Doctor said, the traditional smile in his voice. "I'm the Doctor. I understand you've set a course for Earth…"

"You are the UNIT," one of the robed men said, solemnly. "The test of our faith."

"Er…" the Doctor stammered, not sure how to respond to that.

"You must fall," the second robed man said.

"Your warriors will join the holy cause," the third man said.

"Prepare to be tested," the first man finished, and then the communication cut out.

Strand looked at the Doctor. The Doctor looked at Carrie. Carrie looked at Daniel.

"That sounds rather like a declaration of war," Strand noted.

"I think it was a declaration of war," the Doctor said. "A declaration of war against UNIT."

"That's what I thought," Strand said, turning to McKenzie calmly. "Kindly inform head office at Geneva that there's a ten thousand strong battle fleet heading this way to declare war on UNIT, would you, McKenzie?"

"Sir," Daniel saluted, and marched off.

"Doctor?" Carrie asked. "How bad is that?"

"Bad?" the Doctor said, sadly. "It isn't. It's the end. UNIT is about to be wiped out."

Strand looked at the Doctor with an angered expression on his face, one that made it clear he disagreed.

"Don't count us out yet, Doctor," Strand said. "Davison!"

A young Private with blonde hair and a grim, serious expression ran over to him.

"Sir?" he asked.

"Is the special commander here yet?" Strand asked.

"He will be momentarily, sir," Davison nodded. "McKenzie has informed head office."

"What did they say?" Strand asked. Davison hesitated. "Spit it out, boy!" Strand snapped.

"Something about panicking, getting top brass into shelter, and you're in charge now sir," Davison said, a little sheepishly. "Sorry, sir."

"Knowing top brass, I expected little better," an aged voice said, the click of a cane on floor reaching the Doctor's ears. He widened his eyes further than Carrie had ever seen them widened, and turned – to see an old man with a thick moustache, a smart-pressed uniform and a great big smile standing in the entranceway.

"Ah!" Strand smiled. "Sir Alastair…"

"Brigadier!" the Doctor yelled, running up to him and hugging him on the spot. "Marvellous! Amazing! Spectaular!"

"You changed again, Doctor?" the Brigadier said to him. "Awfully young looking. Reminds me of that crickety chap."

"Yes, I _know…_" the Doctor smiled. "Oh, Brigadier, over here…"

He guided his old friend over to where Carrie was, and smiled.

"Carrie Wright," he said, smiling, "allow me to introduce the Brigadier – Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart!"

"I've been knighted now," the Brigadier noted. "Services to Queen, country, and Cosmos, it seems."

"Oh, and very well deserved, I'm sure," the Doctor smiled. "Anyway…"

"Alien invasion?" the Brigadier interrupted.

"Why yes."

The old man sighed.

"How did I know," he said to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

The holy Zagrite warfleet surrounded the small, blue planet. It was pitiful really, that this was all there was; there was no chance of them being anything more than a day's soft labour. That's what it looked like, anyway.

But the High Speaker had read the reports; Earth, or rather the UNIT, had fought back, Cybermen, Sontarans; all the major powers. All of them. Even the demons themselves.

"Fascinating," he said, watching the planet from his observation tower.

"Sir?" an acolyte said from behind him.

"I can guarantee one thing, brother," the High Speaker said to his followers. "This battle will be something to remember."

"Why have they not contacted us yet, my liege?" the acolyte asked.

The High Speaker blinked. He had considered this; there were, of course, many explanations, but he settled on one which pleased him best, praying to the Goddess that it wouldn't make a liar out of him.

"I imagine finding a place for their best warriors and ours to meet in holy conflict is mildly difficult for them," he smiled at his acolyte. "After all, they're not a very advanced race."

"Then – forgive me," the acolyte said, "but why are we asking them to come with us into glory?"

The High Speaker narrowed his eyes at the acolyte.

"They have the blessing of the angels themselves upon them," he said, sharply. "It is not your place – or even mine – to question their will. Now, fetch me the Commander of the Anointed Fist."

"Yes, my lord," the acolyte said, rushing off. The High Speaker sighed. Some acolytes weren't nearly as clever as they used to be.

--

"Well?" Strand asked, looking to the Doctor for inspiration. "What do we do about Zagrites?"

"Hang on, let me think," the Doctor asked, scratching a non existent beard. "I'm trying to remember what Zagrite procedure is."

"It might help if we knew who they were?" the Brigadier suggested.

"Oh, nobody important," the Doctor said. "A race of religious warriors. Space fleets, that sort of thing. They have a war with the Sontarans in a century or two. They indoctrinate people to serve in their crusade. Corporal Macintyre over there thought they might be assembling for Ragnarok."

"McKenzie," Daniel called over.

"But…" the Doctor continued, ignoring him, "this, this is different. They never target worlds this small. This – forgive me – primitive."

Moments passed. Carrie threw Daniel a glance and he looked tense.

"Look," she said to the Brigadier, "I'm not really good at invasions; what exactly will we do?"

"I wouldn't worry miss," the Brigadier replied. "If anyone can save us, then the Doctor can. It's somewhat his 'thing'."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Carrie smiled, but it was a nervous smile. Cybermen in a bank were on a somewhat different scale to a race of religious fanatics surrounding the entire planet.

"They're surrounding the planet," McKenzie called.

"We're getting another transmission," Davison added.

The Doctor flicked a switch and one of the ornate men from before appeared on the screen, looking serious.

"Hello!" the Doctor said.

"We require the coordinates of your chosen field," the ornate Zagrite said.

The Doctor smacked his hand against his head, and laughed.

"Of course, the field of battle!" he said. "I should have realised! But of course, you want me to tell you what that is… uh, Colonel?"

Strand walked over to him, uncertain.

"What?"

"Send all of your men to a big field somewhere," the Doctor said. "Battle formation. That's what they want."

"Sorry?" Strand said.

"We have challenged your world," the Zagrite on the screen said. "And now your finest must defend it!"

"I don't understand," the Colonel stammered, a little flustered by all of this strangeness.

"Zagrite's believe in field warfare, old style," the Doctor said. "Albeit with newer style weapons."

"Oh," Strand said. "Er… well, I'll have our men assemble, but…"

"We will arrive at your chosen coordinates in thirty of your hours," the Zagrite said.

"Right, good, excellent," the Doctor said, "but before you pop off, can I just ask – who are you?"

"I?" the Zagrite said. "I am the holy speaker Gantorastkaltre. And you, who speak for your people?"

"Oh, they aren't my people," the Doctor smiled. "I'm just a guess. I'm the Doctor."

A full minute passed.

"The Doctor," Gantorastkaltre repeated.

"Yup," the Doctor smiled.

"The Doctor," Gantorastkaltre reiterated.

"That would be me," the Time Lord smiled.

"The holy crusader?" Gantorastkaltre asked.

"Well," the Doctor said, a little taken aback, "I wouldn't exactly say that…"

"The avenging angel? The Ka Faraq Gatri? The man known to the demons as 'the Oncoming Storm?'"

A full minute passed.

"'The Demons'" the Doctor repeated.

"The demons, who seek to end the universe and bring it under their own purview," Gantorastkaltre said, as if intoning some prayer. "It is the Zagrite's holy duty to assemble the righteous for the final day when the angels and the demons will clash, and the end of all will come…"

The Doctor couldn't breath. This was bad; no scratch that, this was worse. This was appalling, this was terrible. If what he was inferring was what he was meant to be inferring, then…

"If you are the Doctor, you must come to us," Gantorastkaltre said, and then the screen went blank.

A moment later, the Doctor vanished in a flash of light.


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor blinked, and opened his eyes. He felt a little dizzy, if he was being honest with himself. Transmat. Couldn't be helped.

"Oh," he said. "Oh this is… different."

He was standing on a stage, in a grand hall. At his left stood a group of Zagrites in armour, wearing medallions and wielding swords – ceremonial most likely. On his right, stood Gantorastkaltre, who was kneeling.

"Behold!" he yelled. "The angel! The Ka Faraq Gatri!"

The Doctor looked out beyond the stage. Sontarans he saw, though only two or three. A few Drahvins. Ice Warriors. Raxacoricofallapatorians. But mainly, dressed in the shining silver armour of the holiest of Zagrite crusaders, twenty thousand (at a guess) Zagrite soldiers, who were kneeling before him.

"Behold the Doctor!" Gantoraskaltre called.

"Behold the Doctor! Behold the Doctor! Behold the Doctor!" the legions chanted.

_And the Doctor looked out upon the might of the holy Zagrite fleet, which had assembled for the end times that they knew were to come soon, and as he looked out upon their might, he knew pride and love for his followers, the followers of the angels of time itself…_

* * *

The Brigadier had been the one to take charge in the panic that had followed. He had bellowed for quiet as the entire command centre of UNIT panicked, Carrie included.

"Most likely," he said to the assembled group, "the aliens have teleported or transmatted him to their command ship. He deals with this sort of thing all the time. He'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Carrie said. "He is a bit… ditzy…"

"I'm more worried about us," Strand said. "If the Doctor is absent, we have no way of defending ourselves from anything."

"Sir," McKenzie said, coming up to him. "We have our forces assembled at the chosen field. We've equipped them all with standard issue alien-fighter ammo."

"You'll have to forgive an old man, Strand," the Brigadier cut in, "but what in blazes is that?"

"Alien fighter ammo is harder, faster ammunition," the Colonel replied. "Designed to punch through stronger armour that aliens seem to prefer."

"So, Alien menaces are no longer immune to bullets?" the Brigadier asked.

"That's the general theory," Strand said. "They've never been tested."

"Well," the Brigadier smiled. "Now is the perfect time to, wouldn't you agree?"

Strand smiled back.

"Oh yes sir," he replied with a salute. "Most definitely. McKenzie, Davison, with me! We're going down to the field. Cassie, stay with Sir Alastair and the Doctor's companion…"

"What?" Carrie said. "I'm coming with you!"

The Brigadier rolled his eyes.

"He always picks the same type," he muttered. "Miss Wright, if I might ask, have you ever been in a battle?"

Carrie looked at the Brigadier, and slowly shook her head, wondering where he was going with this.

"Well I have," the Brigadier said. "And you don't want to be there, I can promise you. The sheer stench of battle, the smoke, the flames, the corpses – sometimes they burn, Miss Wright," he continued, shuddering himself slightly, as Carrie's eyes widened. "It is a horrible place to be. And seeing men die, as well." A haunted look came into the Brigadier's eyes. "I've written to mothers expressing sorrow at the death of their sons, but I cannot tell them how or why they died.; how do you tell Jacob Tamm's mother that he died fighting an alien mass of tentacles and that she can't have his body back because he was disintegrated?" he asked her. "Or Carl Lewis's father, a man who's served in wars; how can you write to him and say, your son was murdered by a walking shop window dummy?"

Carrie's eyes watered as he spoke, the horror he spoke of filling her with sorrow and pity.

"Often, I have wished I could say, 'stay behind' to the Doctor's companions, because they don't know what they're going for," the Brigadier said. "He picks brave young women, and brave young men for his friends. But when he is not around, I make judgements. You will not go. You will remain."

Carrie sat down, looking unhappy but accepting. The Brigadier looked at Strand, and saluted. Strand saluted back, as did Davison and McKenzie, and then they marched out, heads held high.

* * *

"But but but but…" the Ka Faraq Gatri said, looking flustered (if one could apply Zagrite emotions to higher beings), "I'm not an angel!"

The High Speaker smiled indulgently – 'the truly divine is humble and meek, until called upon to fight'; another tenet of Zagrite theology.

"Perhaps not on your own plain, my liege," he said, "but what you have done against the demons is simply divine by nature. You cannot deny your achievements!"

"What demons?" the Oncoming Storm asked, looking worried.

"Why, the achievement of battling the leader of the demons in his own palace!" the Zagrite said, recounting the tale in his own mind for pure joy. "The victory against the invisible demons of the Jungle worlds, the legions of demons you have slaughtered, even those made from the profaned bodies of the dead!"

* * *

The Doctor knew what Gantoraskaltre was talking about. He wished he didn't. He really wished he didn't. He wished that it was all a joke.

But the Demons of the Zagrites were the Daleks.


End file.
